


Sectumsempra

by melian225



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathroom, Community: HPFT, Gen, Moaning Myrtle - Freeform, Second War with Voldemort, Sectumsempra, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melian225/pseuds/melian225
Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem, so he goes to see the only person who might possibly understand.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Text in bold is taken from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, chapter 28, Sectumsempra.

Draco pushed open the door to the bathroom wearily.  His attempts at fixing the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement were futile, and he was hoping to find the one sympathetic ear in the whole castle.

It had been one of those afternoons. First Crabbe and Goyle had refused to take the Polyjuice Potion, which meant he’d been on his own up on the seventh floor. Just getting to the Room had taken all of his nous, dodging students, teachers, and Peeves. He even thought he’d seen his old house-elf, Dobby, at one point, but had put that down to exhaustion. There was no way known Dobby would be here.

Then, once he got inside the Room, it had been even worse. He’d accidentally knocked a wardrobe on his way to the Vanishing Cabinet, and that had been enough to send everything piled on top of the wardrobe down onto his head. Then he’d tripped over some discarded robes that were dangling from an old carver chair, and nearly cracked his wand. Finally, he discovered someone had been in the room and pulled a four-poster bed in front of the Vanishing Cabinet, and it had taken him half an hour to finally get the door open.

He glanced around the bathroom, hoping she’d be here. She knew he didn’t like to use the bathrooms on the seventh floor: too much chance of bumping into someone, what with the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common rooms there. Plus Potter had been hanging around in a most irritating way, probably trying to work out what Draco was doing.

He gave a snort. Nothing. That was what he was doing in the Room of Requirement- nothing. Nothing that was of any use, anyway. He just wasn’t able to fix the cabinet, and that meant …

He didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“Myrtle?” he called out, quietly, in case there was anyone else nearby. Not that he expected to see anyone on the sixth floor generally, unless they were on their way somewhere else.

There was a splash in the end cubicle, and Myrtle floated through the door. “I wondered if you’d be coming to see me,” she said, a smile dancing around her mouth.

That did it. How could she be smiling? How could anyone smile when Draco’s impending failure meant his father would be killed – and probably his mother too. And his own life? Forfeit, as sure as he was standing there. If he couldn’t fix the Cabinet, he couldn’t get the Death Eaters into the castle, and he’d never be able to kill Dumbledore.

The realisation, the reality of his failure, hit him like a ton of bricks, and he leaned forwards onto the basin, his arms taut to bear his weight, tears flooding down his cheeks.

“It’s all going wrong, Myrtle,” he gasped. “It’s all wrong.”

“Don’t cry.” Myrtle’s voice sounded like it was a million miles away.

“But what can I do?” The hopelessness of his situation was overwhelming him. “It’s all wrong.”

**“Don’t,”** Myrtle crooned. She was swirling around the room now, drifting through cubicle walls. Her voice was everywhere, getting into his brain. He wasn’t sure if it was comforting or not.

**“Tell me what’s wrong,”** Myrtle went on. **“I can help you …”**

**“No one can help me,”** he said despondently. His whole body was shaking at the implications of this statement. No one could help, and his life – and those of his mother and father – was effectively forfeit. **“I can’t do it. I can’t. It won’t work … and unless I do it soon … he says he’ll kill me …”**

He gulped. He had to try again. There was nothing more for it. Even though he was at the end of his tether, even though he’d exhausted all options, he had to keep trying. He had to. There was nothing else he could do.

With great effort he lifted his head – and saw, in the mirror above the basin, the worst possible sight. Well, the worst possible other than Lord Voldemort with his wand raised.

Potter.

Potter, here, in the bathroom, witness to his greatest failure. His worst humiliation.

Potter, his nemesis. The one person who he despised more than himself at that moment.

Instinctively he whirled around, pulling his wand out as he did so. Potter did the same, narrowly avoiding the hex Draco sent his way.

In less than a second spells began to fly back and forth, landing on the walls and basins as they each dodged … or did they miss? It was happening so quickly it was hard to tell. Somewhere in the background he could hear Myrtle’s howls of protest – she had always hated magic being used in her vicinity, he remembered vaguely. All he knew was that the hatred he had been directing at himself now had a new focus, a new target. He didn’t even think twice before attempting to cast the Cruciatus Curse, even though he’d not used that spell before. Aunt Bella said you had to mean it, you had to really wish the person pain …

Potter swerved out of the way, just missing the red flash of light Draco had sent his way, and readied to cast his own incantation. Draco wasn’t worried. Potter would never use an Unforgivable, he knew.

And, really, with that ruled out …

What was the worst that could happen?


End file.
